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It wasn’t his first punch. He was too far down the rabbit hole to keep a tally, but he wasn’t even sure it was his first punch of the week (although he was getting better, lashing out less, and he wasn’t entirely sure why that was either).
This one was different. This punch wasn’t about anger or retribution or misplaced sadness disguised as toughness. No, this particular elbow extension felt unique. The act was protective not destructive, a weird feeling for Logan. He wasn’t there because some guy drooled over his girlfriend’s ass or to push daddy dearest’s buttons.
So why was he there? And better yet why was he still there? Agent Jackass’s story seemed to hold up. Veronica was strong, smart, so much of a pain in the ass that even if Doogie Howser FBI was lying he might just let her leave to shut her the hell up. Logan could relate. He was still there though, pacing between rooms of the shitty motel, waiting. And thinking.
He drew his right thumb and middle fingers up above his nose, sliding the pads over his eyebrows and down to his jaw line where they massaged back and forth momentarily.
She was his best friend’s ex-girlfriend, his dead ex-girlfriend’s best friend. It was all so messed up. Like most things in his life. In that sense it only seemed natural he’d been drawn to her. Veronica was the flame to his fucked up moth. She had been for a year, but somehow it was different now. Just a couple months ago his sole focus was making her life hell. Devoting all the energy he couldn’t fuck or drink away into tormenting this flame who continued to blaze, who wouldn’t just die out and let them forget about Lilly, was cathartic. Not a method the school shrink would recommend he was sure, but it was easy, and really something should be at this point in his life.
Then it got tired, he got tired, but he kept up the snark with minimal effort. It came naturally to him. Plus, he couldn’t really think of anything else to do, and when he wasn’t doing something, he was almost certainly up to little good.
But now they were here, and this weird understanding that had developed over the past weeks left him waiting to see if the flame was going to burn bright another night.
It wasn’t just that though. He hadn’t just punched the agent once, or called the police when he figured out where he and Veronica were headed. No, he came swooping in and laid the guy out and kept punching. He’d felt this strange need to protect her, be her white knight. His stomach had dropped when he heard the phone tumble and her voice rise for his sake. He was worried and protective and scared and he hadn’t really felt that way about anyone. Lilly was gone before he could worry, same with his mom. So he jumped into action, desperate for a chance to save someone, to not be left watching and wondering why later.
Leaning his head back against the exterior wall his mind raced backward. He felt her arms lightly surround him, unsure of what do as tears fell with hurricane force from his eyes. Saw her eyes flicker between annoyed and concerned as she explained that her too-handsome-to-be-a-cop date was going to drive him home. Shreds of torn-up check snowed onto her desk in front of him.
Logan had been the worst person in the world to Veronica, and yet, since the bridge, she was the only person who seemed to care about him. Aaron outright sucked. Dick was too, well Dick. Duncan was dealing with own realities, ones Logan didn’t want to think too much about at the moment. In fact, there was just one other person who had helped him out or listened to him or at least didn’t make him feel crazy since his mom’s swan dive: Weevil. Weevil’d made sure the plunge hadn’t gone viral.
Apparently today’s life lesson was that money and douche-baggery don’t buy a whole lot of compassion. He wondered if there was inspirational quote for that particular lesson. Maybe Hemingway? Logan had always felt a kinship with the author--a hard falling, woman chasing, drunk son of a performer prone to violent outbursts and one liners. Yeah maybe Hemingway had the answer.
He’d learned something else too. Something that would definitely not be making his outgoing message. He was pretty sure he had feelings for Veronica Mars. That punch seemed proved it too.
Just then the door opened to his left and out she walked. Her hair was growing out, framing her face nicely; maturing Lilly’s once naive best friend, and softening the girl left in her wake. Like she often did now, she looked like the weight of world was threatening to crush her.
“Are you ok?”
Suddenly, mumbling “Mmmhmm,” she was right in front of him, and he had to note instructions to his brain on how to breathe. Big blue eyes looked at him, shaken like he hadn’t seen in a while. In an instant her mouth was at the corner of his lip, surprisingly soft and firm at the same time, a faint bubblegum taste lingering. Pulling back she searched his eyes as he tried to keep metronomic pace.
Apparently he wasn’t quick enough, probably because the wires of his central nervous had just been plunged into the heart of the ocean. She shook her head, blinking her eyes up and down, and turned to leave.
Despite a lack of clear signals from his primary organs, his arm shot out, catching hold of her lightly, and in one motion twirling her back toward him as he leaned down. Lips besieged lips, not in a power struggle, but rather a tactical battle. Once again he felt her arms surround him, powerfully this time, as he maneuvered his own arm to her lower back. He had no thoughts in that moment, just letting this feeling fill his body, sensing instead of thinking.
Until, that is, she pulled away. Nerves were rescued from water, fraying and jumbled, sparks shooting across wires in open air. Her eyes remained on him for another second and he lightly let go, his body finally shutting down in response to excess stimulation.
Hands and limbs now disentangled, he watched her bolt, blonde hair bouncing behind her as she flew down the stairs and to her waiting car. Still her eyes never left him, and his certainly never left her. Even when the two of them couldn’t form words, they were never speechless.
Eventually he watched her duck into her car, breaking off the conversation with a squeak of old rubber. Already too much had been said.
Gripping the railing in front of him he swung his upper body forward, dancing on the balls of his feet like a boxer setting for a match.
It sure as hell wasn’t the first punch Logan Echolls ever delivered, but it was the first he had thrown for Veronica Mars. Ten minutes after it landed it was clear it wouldn’t be the last.